


Perfection

by DarthSuki



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, Drabble, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fingerfucking, Innocence AU, M/M, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Possessive Behavior, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:43:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: Atop Mt. Gulg sits a kingdom of polished marble and gold that is bathed in light in every moment of every day. Upon the throne of that kingdom sits a king, the very warden of the light that drowns the land, along with his very mortal lover.After all, what would be the epitome of perfection if not the union of human and sin eater?





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request made on my FFXIV writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://finalfantasyxivwritings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> For context, this is part of an AU best described by this ask I got on my writing blog: _Au where the reader is getting fucked by Innocence to make a human/sin eater hybrid instead of whatever happened with Vauthry and his family. Just cut them right out!_
> 
> Thank you anon for validating the fact that the second phase of the Innocence trial is fucking illegal and that apparently I'll make an entire AU so I can fuck him and indulge upon some of my darker guilty-pleasure tropes on a vaguely clean conscious.

The marble floor is like ice against your bare skin. You feel it where the blanket beneath you is fussed around, folded from your constant shifting on top of it. It’s especially chilling when you press your feet down in attempts to give leverage to your hips–the soft soles meet with the cool, bare floor.

A gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if the noise is drawn first from the gentle shock of cold against your skin or the insistent pressure of fingers between your thighs, dipping into cloying wet heat that’s long-been dripping wet with your arousal and careful preparation for longer than your mind can fathom. 

Minutes or hours, which has it been? It’s difficult to tell when the sky above the temple-like structure in which your lover deems fit to claim you is always lit with the ever-present sunlight that but drowns the land around his opalescent kingdom.

Either way, no amount of time could dull the pleasure that burns against your nerves when careful, but firm fingertips press inside of you. When they press deep, edging you closer to one orgasm after another–you’ve long lost count of how many it’s been since he’d carried you here. Your mind is little more than a puddle, no more formative than the crumpled blanket beneath you, body hovered over with the but glowing form of a man who smothered you in warmth and light alike in every waking moment.

“P-please,” the word leaves your lips as a broken noise, barely coherent and rough. You’re about to continue, to say more, but there’s a sudden sound rushing through the air above you.

A shush. Gentle. Soft.

But powerful in a way that no mortal can sound.

“Waste not your words, dear one,” the creature murmurs. “Ere you hurt your voice further, and I would want to hear your sweet song again tomorrow.”

All you can do is open your mouth and shut your eyes tight in response as an orgasm begins to flow through you. It’s dull, but heavy, making your limbs feel as heavy as stone and your stomach twist ever tighter–and you feel the constant thrust of fingers pull you through every inch of the euphoric blaze of white-hot sensation.

“That’s it,” the voice above you coos. “You must be relaxed and ready for my claim if you are to take with child. Simply breathe, dear one, and worry not for anything at all.”

No. No worrying. No stress. You are surrounded by but a temple of light, smothered by the warmth that radiates off every single surface of its marble perfection.

There is but nothing you can want for in the moment; things like hunger and pain and loneliness feel like such distant issues to a mind so awash in pleasure and light, smothered by the powerful presence constantly emitted by your lover’s form.

You nod in weak understanding, and then lips press gently to the crown of your head.

“Such a good human,” the voice whispers, fingers yet deep within you, working to pull another uncountable orgasm from your exhausted body. “Soon you’ll grow with the seed of our joined perfection–human and sin eater, as it is meant to be.”

You have no energy to speak words, but you hope the soft smile upon your lips is enough to communicate the joy that bubbles somewhere in your chest, content to swim forever in the sea of light that surrounds your lover and mate.

In a way, perhaps it is perfection.


End file.
